Companions and Lovers
by Biff McLaughlin
Summary: Vilkas asks Brynja, the Dragonborn, to accompany him to Driftshade Refuge to wipe out the Silver Hand and retrieve the fragments of Wuuthrad. The journey takes an interesting turn. Written for Zute as part of a holiday gift exchange.


**I Am Not a Girl**

Kodlak Whitemane was dead. Farkas cried quietly, tears rolling down his face, as he spread a woolen blanket out over the older man's body. Njada knelt beside him, praying, and from all corners of the hall Brynja could hear her brothers and sisters crying or swearing vengeance against the Silver Hand. _I must have just missed the fight_. A sob escaped her lips and she sank into a nearby chair.

Vilkas hadn't noticed Brynja enter the hall, but the scrape of wood on wood drew his attention to her. He strode to her side and hauled her to her feet. "Where have you been?" he growled.

"I was doing Kodlak's bidding!" She pulled her arm from his grasp and wiped her cheeks dry.

"Well I hope it was important, because it means you weren't here to defend him. The Silver Hand finally found enough courage to attack Jorrvaskr. We fought them off, but...the old man..."

"Was anyone else hurt?" Brynja looked around the hall, silently berating herself for not having thought to check before now.

"No, but they made off with all our fragments of Wuuthrad, and you and I are going to reclaim them. We will bring the battle to their chief camp. There will be none left living to tell their stories. Only songs of Jorrvaskr will be sung. We will avenge Kodlak and they will know terror before the end."

Brynja's eyes widened with surprise, though not at the fact that he would choose to send her. She was the most versatile Companion, strong, trained in several magics, adept with bows and one-handed weapons, and she had mastered several shouts. That Vilkas would choose to go with her, that was surprising. In spite of her efforts, he disliked her. She sighed and nodded her head slightly.

"When do you wish to leave?"

"Go get what you need. It is still early enough that we could make some progress today before we set camp." He eyed the bag she had dragged in with her with some curiosity before saying, "We are headed north, into The Pale. You will need furs, warm clothing."

She left her things in a heap and knelt by Kodlak's body. Taking his hand in hers, she held it to her chest and bent over him to whisper, "We will avenge your death, Kodlak. If there is a way to complete the quest you gave me, I swear I will find it." She kissed his forehead and folded his arm over his chest.

Crouching between Farkas and Nadja, she put an arm around each of them. "See to it that he is prepared for his funeral." They nodded, a sense of duty and purpose mobilizing them once again.

"I will be ready in one hour, Vilkas." Brynja collected her things and left for Breezehome, muttering condolences to her brothers and sisters as she went.

x~*~x

Brynja hired a horse and wagon to take them to Dawnstar, arguing that it would be more efficient and less hazardous to their health if they took a public road rather than climb through the mountains and risk running into frost trolls and other snow dwelling creatures. From there, they would travel southeast to Driftshade Refuge, by foot or horse, depending on the weather. If they were lucky, it would take them several days to get there and back, and Brynja prayed they would get lucky. Vilkas could be a hard man to get along with at the best of times and it didn't help that she found him fairly appealing in spite of that fact.

x~*~x

The journey to Dawnstar wasn't as bad as Brynja imagined it might be. The weather was pleasant enough, though temperatures dropped as they reached the higher northern elevations, snowing very little. Vilkas kept to himself, grieving Kodlak's death, his stern expression discouraging any conversation. While Brynja was equally upset over the loss of the Harbinger, she was a far more social person. She chatted amiably with the driver and other passengers who joined them along the way, and harvested plants for potions, allowing herself to grieve at night when they camped.

Late on their third day of travel, when the last of the fiery red skies had given way to night, they reached Dawnstar. Brynja insisted that they purchase rooms at the Windspeak Inn for the night. A hot bath and a soft bed were her priorities. Vilkas rolled his eyes, a growl rumbling in his throat.

She irritated him by smiling and patting his arm. "Mark my words, Vilkas, you'll enjoy the venison stew with a mug of their ale, and we both could use a bath and a soft bed before we set out in the morning. Besides, we need some supplies for the journey and Frida will have turned in for the night." At Vilkas's puzzled expression, she added, "She runs The Mortar and Pestle."

Leaving no room for argument, she turned toward the bar and waved her hand at the Nord standing there. "Thoring, my friend! How are you this day?"

It only further soured Vilkas's mood that Brynja was right. The venison stew was the best he'd ever tasted, the ale was strong, the bath relaxing, and the bed far more comfortable than his own back at Jorrvaskr. The following morning, Brynja was ready to go, seated at a table near the fire with a meal spread out before her.

"Vilkas, over here! There's porridge, fresh bread with honey, and ale for you."

He sat with a grunt, adopting his usual grim expression, and sniffed the steaming bowl of oats and nuts she set before him. His stomach rumbled and he dug in. Brynja smiled.

"What?" he asked between mouthfuls.

"Nothing. It's just that you seem in better spirits. I miss him, too. Do you want to talk about it?"

_Talk. Why must women always talk?_ He was feeling better, and he had her to thank for it, in truth. He'd needed the bed and bath, but wouldn't have bothered with either if she hadn't been with him. Vilkas watched her for a moment, wondering if he'd been too hard on her and why it was that he found her so damned annoying. She was always right, it seemed, and even though he had never given her reason to be kind to him, here she was concerned about his...feelings.

As he sat there staring at her she lifted her green eyes to look into his. There were flecks of gold in the green. He'd never noticed that before and something stirred within him. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, annoyed with her once again.

"You want to talk?" he asked sharply. He wasn't sure what she meant by 'it', exactly, and he wasn't interested, but he _was_ curious about something.

"Yes," she replied, nodding firmly. Hope that he might warm up to her a bit was fading quickly, but she was determined to keep trying.

Vilkas put his spoon down. "What was going on between you and Kodlak?"

"What do you mean?" She had heard the others talking, of course, and knew what he meant, but wanted him to ask the question no else dared ask.

"Were you fucking the old man?" _Maybe I'll offend her and she'll leave me alone_. As soon as he thought it, however, he knew he was wrong. A knowing look flashed through those glittering green eyes before she spoke.

"He was like a _father_ to me, Vilkas, so no, I was not _fucking_ him." She looked down at the table and played with the frayed edge of her napkin. "He reminded me of my own father, and I wish..." She shook her head, as if to rid herself of a notion, and raised her eyes to his again. "Maybe I am responsible for his death. I wanted to stop Aela and Skjor from pursuing The Silver Hand, but I also wanted to help kill them all for what they'd done to our brothers and sisters. And look what-" Her voice grew tight and she cleared her throat, staring to the fire. "Look what happened."

Vilkas had never been comfortable with emotional women and an awkward silence filled the space between them as he tried to decide what to say.

"You aren't to blame," was all he could offer after another mouthful of ale and some bread.

He was as surprised as she was to hear himself reassure her, but it was true. Brynja wasn't the only one who knew what Aela and Skjor were planning, and yet they'd all turned a blind eye. It was unfair to blame their newest recruit, when two senior members of The Circle had lead her into the heart of the conflict. Vilkas's brow pulled into a frown as he realized he was defending her.

The bard was up and tuning his lute and Brynja recognized the familiar strains of The Dragonborn Comes. Wincing, she stood up. "We should get moving. I'll settle our account with Thoring."

Vilkas handed her several septims and Brynja hurried away from the table. He watched her as she spoke to the innkeeper, wondering what Kodlak saw in her. The old man's eyes had followed her everywhere, he treated her differently than the others, encouraged Aela and Skjor to give her all the work she could handle, and he had allowed her to become a part of their inner circle, all within a few months of her arrival on their doorstep. Why did Kodlak think she was special, more deserving than other members who had served loyally for years? She was pretty, shapely, and good humored, he'd give her that, but what did it matter if she hadn't been sleeping with the old man?

He thought about what she had to offer their family. Aside from her skill with bows and blades, and the Nord blood that flowed in her veins, she could sing and play the lute, cook and sew, she knew her numbers and letters, was smart, and had a talent for magic. Aela said she was a good hunter, too. It wasn't lost on Vilkas that he was describing the very woman he had often hoped to settle down with. Displeased with the direction his thoughts had taken him, he finished his breakfast and wrapped up the leftover bread in a scrap of linen, stowing the package within his backpack.

Brynja was outside, staring off to the southeast, wisps of long dark hair whipping around her face in the wind. "The Mortar and Pestle should be open. We'll go there and then head out. There are no horses for rent and our wagon is returning to Whiterun, so we walk. We should make it there midday tomorrow at the latest, if I read the map correctly."

Vilkas nodded with a grunt. "Let's go." Without further comment, he stalked off, hoisting his pack onto his shoulders.

Sighing, Brynja followed Vilkas. This would be a long trip.

x~*~x

Vilkas looked down at Brynja's hand as she gripped his wrist, his nostrils flaring. "One of these days, girl," he hissed, "you'll lose that hand."

They were standing in the entryway to Driftshade Refuge, getting ready to descend into the tunnel before them.

"I am not a girl, Vilkas," she said with a sigh as she released his hand. "I thought you might want to know how many people are inside and where they are."

"And how could you possibly know _that_?"

Brynja crossed her arms over her chest and stared back at him, one eyebrow raised. _He is as gruff and rude as ever_, she thought. Trying to win him over was getting rather tiresome and her patience was wearing thin. "Do you want to know or not?"

He resisted the urge to smack her and nodded. Brynja stepped to the entrance of the tunnel into the refuge and grew very still.

"Laas yah nir," she whispered, and after a slight pause her head and hand moved. She appeared to be counting something, but he couldn't see what.

After a moment, she turned to him. "I can't look as far into the place as I would like, but we should run into eight people along this corridor. I think this maybe goes through larger chambers and has rooms off to the side. I don't see any animals...No, just people."

Vilkas stared at her for a moment, wondering what other mysterious talents were hidden in her slim frame. Again, unfamiliar feelings stirred within him and he frowned. Brynja was too focused on the path ahead to notice the conflict that was brewing within Vilkas, and readied her ebony bow, slipping arrows between the fingers of her right hand.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

With a sharp nod, he replied, "Just make sure you leave some of them for me."

_And stay out of the way of that damned sword_, she added silently as she led them down into the tunnel.

x~*~x

Vilkas and Brynja fought their way through a maze of chambers and rooms, and though he wasn't counting, Vilkas reckoned the girl was right. She was also quite adept at other things, too, and now he knew why the Whiterun guards regarded her with some suspicion. She was a very good lock pick and had a knack for finding treasures. His pockets were heavy with the gold coins and potions she kept handing to him. As they snuck along, she paused in what clearly passed as a kitchen for The Silver Hand members, and ate.

"What are you doing?" he demanded in a growling whisper.

His voice at her ear and his breath on her skin sent a shiver down Brynja's back. She turned away from the pot of stew, shoving a piece of gravy-soaked bread into her mouth.

"I'm hungry," she said with a pout.

"By the gods, girl-"

"_Stop_ calling me that." she snapped back.

Vilkas couldn't help grinning as he followed her deeper into Driftshade Refuge. He was getting on her nerves, too.

x~*~x

She had been moving through the refuge looting gold, potions and more, killing with apparent detachment, and snacking as though the carnage didn't bother her in the least, but she paused now, staring down at the body of a woman who had jumped up from behind a bed to throw a knife at Brynja. The girl dodged the knife and threw one back into the other woman's throat. As she died, the woman clutched her throat and belly as she fell back onto the bed, a look of terror on her face. Brynja froze, her eyes on the woman. A tear ran down her cheek.

_By the gods, she's crying_. "What is it?"

"She's pregnant, Vilkas, and her last thought was of her child, I saw it in her eyes. I-I...Let's go." She pushed past him, back out into the hall. Casting a glance at the woman, he saw the distinctive swell of her pregnant belly under the leather and fur garments she wore. A twinge of regret pulled at him, but she was a Silver Hand, she knew what the risks were. All the same, he turned and hurried out after Brynja.

They passed through a cellar, more winding hallways, a snowy cave, and a torture chamber of all things, fighting off the enemy and looting for treasure. He was certain they'd found a few hundred gold coins by now at least, as well as gold ingots. They would be bringing a fortune back to the Companions, and he was pleased about that, but doubt was creeping into his thoughts. Brynja was unusually quiet now, that spark of energy dimmed, and the image of the pregnant woman lying dead by the girl's hand was hard to forget. She was dwelling on it, too, he knew.

When the shards of Wuuthrad finally lay before them, Vilkas was greatly relieved. He wanted to get as far from this place as possible, far from the disturbing thoughts and feelings this trip had stirred within him. He wanted to pay his final respects to Kodlak and get on with his life. He gathered the pieces of the sword and wrapped them in a shirt they'd found, and turned to see Brynja finish her search of the room.

"Let's go."

She nodded mutely, tucking a coin purse into a pocket within her furs, and led him to a barred door. He recalled they had found such a door early upon entering the refuge and smiled; they would be on their way shortly. His relief was short lived. When they got to the entrance and looked out, they realized it was much later than they had thought. The sun had set, and while the moon was full, a strong wind was blowing from the northeast and the temperature was dropping. As they stood there staring at the horizon, snow began to fall.

Brynja groaned. "It looks like we'll have to stay here." They stepped back into the refuge and she pulled the door shut. "There was food and wood for the fire back in the chamber where we found the fragments. We might as well make the best of it."

"I think I saw some ale down there," Vilkas grumbled as they retraced their steps.

He barred the door behind them and moved the bodies of the men they'd killed out of the way to a dark corner of the room. Brynja built up the fire and busied herself with more domestic pursuits. For her part, she needed to focus on something other than what they'd done here today. Killing a pregnant woman was something she had never imagined she'd do, never even conceived of, and it weighed heavily upon her conscience. _Where is this getting us? Any of us? Dinner_, she reminded herself with a shake of her head. _Make some dinner_. She found bread, a roasted rabbit, and a pot of vegetable stew by the fire, and a case of ale, and she began to pull together a meal.

When Vilkas had finished disposing of the enemy's dead, he searched for mattresses for them to sleep on. They had their own furs and blankets, but nothing else, and he'd seen decent beds in the refuge. Finding two a short way back into the maze of rooms, he dragged them close to the fire. He was staring at the flames when Brynja's voice cut into his thoughts.

"Are you hungry?"

She had put together a fair sized meal, by the look of it, and set a table as well, right down to cloth napkins and lanterns. It seemed foolish and he nearly laughed. "What's the meaning of this, girl?" he asked, waving his hand at the table.

Brynja's patience finally snapped. "_I am not a girl!_" she shouted at him.

He had never known her to yell at anyone, and so it took him by surprise that her voice had some force to it even when she wasn't using the dragon shouts. He staggered back a few steps, the shock on his face matching hers, as the sound of her voice echoed around the room.

"What is wrong with you?" He almost said 'girl', but wasn't about to make that mistake again.

Brynja crumpled into a chair, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

He rubbed a hand over his face. What if she'd been truly angry? He had seen her throw men twice her size across a room with her voice. This girl - woman, he corrected himself - had more power than he could imagine. She was a mystery to him and something in that aroused him.

"Why do you hate me?" she asked suddenly.

Vilkas frowned, feeling very uncomfortable. He shrugged and sat down, grabbing a bottle of ale. "I don't hate you, I-"

"You've been mean and mistrusting since we met," she sniffed, "and I've done nothing to deserve it. I've more than proven my worth and earned my place, yet you still don't care for me."

He gave that consideration. "You have a way about you, people are drawn to you, but I was...suspicious." He paused, almost startled to hear himself speak. Examining his feelings was something he did not do, never mind discuss them with anyone, but something had changed.

She was looking at him, a confused expression on her face, and he shrugged. "You came out of nowhere, amidst rumors of being dragonborn, and within no time at all you were Thane, everyone knew of you, bards were singing songs about you, and Kodlak was taken with you." He grabbed a chunk of rabbit meat and ripped it apart, stuffing a morsel into his mouth.

"You were jealous?" she asked.

"Eat. It's good." Vilkas gestured to the food, avoiding answering her question.

"I was an escaped criminal, Vilkas. I needed protection, the favor of a jarl. After a while it became clear anyone who knew anything about my arrest had died in Helgen or didn't care, but I wanted a home, to feel at home." She dipped a piece of bread into the stew and ate it.

He gave her a sideways glance. "Why do you care what I think of you?"

Brynja turned to look into the fire, her cheeks warming. _Why indeed. How could I possibly tell him how I feel about him, when I barely know myself?_ She often wondered if it was his indifference towards her that fueled her desire for him, and if that desire would wane if he were to give her the time of day. Yet she wanted more, and Vilkas was the most eligible man she'd met in a while.

"Women are more concerned about such things, I suppose." She pulled open a bottle of ale and drank several mouthfuls, hoping he'd let it go.

Vilkas watched her as she drank, noting the color of her cheeks. They slipped into silence and finished their meals, and Vilkas let his mind drift. Farkas once commented that he thought Brynja was marriageable, and wondered why she wasn't wearing the Amulet of Mara she'd found, if she wasn't going to sell it. Aela overheard and suggested that their new recruit might have someone specific in mind and was simply waiting for the right time to show she was ready. Thinking back on it, Aela had given him a strange look at the time. Did she think Brynja fancied him? He thought about that, looking at the young woman as she finished off her ale and opened a second bottle.

"Better go easy on that ale, Brynja, or you'll have a hangover tomorrow. You wouldn't want to have to walk through the blinding white snow with a splitting head."

She paused, the bottle midway through the air to her mouth. He had finally called her by name. Nearly as surprising was the way hearing him say it made her feel, sparking a physical reaction that shot straight to her core. She swallowed another mouthful of ale and put it down. "Right. I...ah...I think I'll clean up."

Her reaction wasn't lost on Vilkas and he helped himself to more ale, staring into the fire. There was nothing wrong with her. She was a fine Nord lass, the embodiment of the best qualities of their people. Strong, determined, smart and able, capable of fending for herself in a fight or the wilds. She was friendly and pretty, too, but more than that, she was special. He wasn't sure he believed she had dragon's blood flowing in her veins, but there was definitely something different about her. The dragonborn rumors had put him off at first. The attention it drew, yes, but more than that, he found himself afraid of the mysterious power she wielded, and so he had kept her at arm's length. But he wasn't afraid anymore, and in spite of her outburst earlier, he knew Brynja's loyalty to her friends and family was unquestionable.

Vilkas entertained thoughts he hadn't dwelled upon in a long time. He had never wanted for female company; there were several eligible women in Whiterun, and just as many who were happy to simply share their bed on occasion. Some of those beds weren't that far from his. He had certainly had his fun, but as for settling down, no one had caught his eye. Brynja was different, however, and for the first time since she appeared in Whiterun, Vilkas found himself looking at her in an entirely different light. Now that he was being honest with himself, he could admit that perhaps part of what annoyed him about her was that he did find her attractive.

Life could be hard in Skyrim. If disease, a bandit or the rebellion didn't kill you, any number of other perils might. A farmer near Whiterun died when a dragon sat on his house and it collapsed under the beast's weight. Perhaps it would be nice to spend what time he had left sharing a home with a shapely lass, rather than share a room with his brother. _If Brynja is attracted to me, maybe_... He downed the last of his ale and made up his mind to get her talking again.

Brynja knew Vilkas was watching her; she stole sideways glances at him now and then as she looked for water and prepared a pot to boil. Drinking more ale, she realized it was stronger than what she was used to, and while she could hold her alcohol as well as any Nord, she wasn't immune to it. Even now, with some physical distance between them, she was feeling more confident and was beginning to wonder if perhaps she should try talk to Vilkas about how she felt. _Gods, did I just think that? It is a good thing I don't have the Amulet of Mara with me, or I might be foolish enough to wear it._

"What did Kodlak have you do for him, Brynja?"

She stood and turned to look at him, regarding him for several seconds before returning to the table to sit down

Drinking from her bottle of ale, she said, "He thought he'd found a way to cure the beast's blood, and he sent me to Glenmoril Coven to kill the witches there."

Vilkas was silent for a long time, and she began to fear he might be angry that Kodlak chose to send her. "Vilkas?"

He looked up from his ale, his expression difficult to read. "There is a cure?" He had not expected this.

"Kodlak said so. He sent me to bring back the head of a witch, but he didn't tell me what I was to do with it." Tears welled up in her eyes and she stood and paced. "Damnit. I don't want to serve Hircine for all eternity, and neither did he, but I was too late, I lingered too long. Maybe if I'd only killed one...But I wanted the cure, too, and there was you and Farkas-"

"That bag you had with you at Jorrvaskr. You had the heads of four witches in it?" His head was reeling with the news that there was a cure. He was angry Kodlak hadn't come to him for help, but the old man must have had his reasons.

Brynja swallowed hard, the memory of killing the witches and cutting off their heads still fresh and upsetting. "Yes. They're in my cold cellar. Gods, what do we do now, Vilkas?"

"Kodlak kept a journal. Perhaps he wrote about the cure there. He sent you alone?"

"He didn't say why, just that I was to go on my own." She bit her lip. "He found out what Aela and I were up to. He was so disappointed that I couldn't bear to upset him further, so I didn't ask too many questions. I failed him, I should have-"

"No, Brynja. You did not fail. You did exactly what he sent you to do, but other events intervened. You thought of Farkas and me?"

The pot of water on the fire was boiling over and she removed it from the flames. "You do not see the beast's blood as a blessing the way Aela does. I thought if I-" She had hoped that he'd appreciate the gesture and finally accept her, but she couldn't tell him that. "Well, I thought you'd want to be cured, too, if there was a way."

She would have had to travel through the plains, past giants and mammoths and any number of other dangers to get to the coven, never mind face the witches. Brynja was stealthy and could attack from a distance, but all the same, it couldn't have been easy. And she had thought to save his spirit from an afterlife of service to Hircine. He chided himself for letting his pride and fear blind him for so long; this woman was a rare find.

Brynja was adding some hot water to a bowl of cold so she could wash when she heard Vilkas's voice at her back. "Why do you really care what I think of you, Brynja?" She straightened up, bumping into him.

"What? Um...I told you-"

"Yes, you say women care about such things, hmm?"

"Right." She stepped aside and walked a few paces away. Vilkas was a clever man who did a great deal more thinking than his brother, Farkas, and she felt he was up to something.

He nodded and opened another bottle of ale, holding Brynja's out to her. When she hesitated, he shrugged and put it back down on the table.

"But what about _you_, specifically, Brynja? Why do _you_ care about what I think of you?"

The glimmer in his eye sent a shiver down her spine and her eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What sort of game are you playing with me, Vilkas?"

"No games. Just one Companion talking to another, getting to know each other."

"Getting to know me? You've had months to get to know me."

Vilkas raised an eyebrow in response and she snatched up her drink, taking a healthy swig.

"I...I need to know that people like me. I know I shouldn't care, but I do, and I was certain you hated me. You're a member of The Circle, and Kodlak respected you, and it seemed...important that I gain your, um, respect." She realized she was babbling and drank more ale. _I've killed dragons. Talking to Vilkas has to be easier_. "Why?"

"I've been thinking that you are right. I have been hard on you, and you deserve better."

She stared at him and sat down, trying to decide if she had fallen asleep or was perhaps witnessing an historic occasion. "Ah...thank you?"

"You're welcome. So you wanted my respect?"

"Yes." She chewed on her lip, her brow knitting into a frown. This was by far the longest conversation she'd ever had with the warrior, and she was beginning to sense that something had definitely changed between them. "What are you getting at, Vilkas?"

He smiled, enjoying her uncertainty. She was usually confident and prepared; now, however, he could see that she was confused and unsure of herself. "I think I am finally seeing what the others see in you, Brynja."

The way he said her name set her pulse racing and made her cheeks burn. "Oh, that's...nice." _Nice? Oh gods_. She quaffed her ale and put the bottle down. Vilkas slid another in front of her. As she opened it, she tried to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"Look, about earlier, when I yelled at you. I am sorry. I don't normally lose my temper like that, but you-"

"But I what, Brynja?"

Squirming slightly in her seat, she sighed. "I don't know, you can be so...frustrating. I just...I'm not a girl, and-"

"And you wanted me to see that you are a woman?"

"Yes. I mean no!" She drank, avoiding his gaze. _Mara help me_. "I mean, I wanted you to stop thinking of me as a child."

"I have never thought of you as a child, Brynja."

She laughed nervously, a short 'ha'. Standing, she walked to the fire, trying to look relaxed and self assured. "Good."

_Clearly, he finally appreciates what I have to offer, but is it more than that? Dare I hope for anything more? Maybe this urge to marry, build a home, and start a family will pass_. The thought of having a child brought her thoughts back to the present and the pregnant Silver Hand woman she had killed.

"Vilkas, do you regret any of this?"

She turned around as she gestured toward the deeper reaches of the refuge, and found Vilkas standing an arm's length away. It startled her enough to make her take a step back toward the fire. Vilkas reached out and grabbed her arms to steady her and steer her away from the flames.

"Do I regret killing these people?"

Brynja bit her lip against the heady rush that swept over her. "Yes. The ongoing retaliation, the loss of life, of an unborn child." She flung an arm toward the tunnel. "I know she was a soldier, and she shouldn't have been fighting in her condition, but I can't say that I would be any different! That could be me someday. When will it end?"

She was putting words to some of the thoughts that had been plaguing him throughout the day, but he didn't want to talk; he wanted to act. Stepping closer to Brynja, he put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her closer.

"Vilkas, what-"

He kissed her and Brynja let out a soft whimper as his tongue swept across her lips. Coming to her senses, she pushed away from him and looked him in the eye.

"Are you toying with my affections?"

"Do you have affections for me?" She tasted sweet, and his heightened senses detected desire and apprehension mingling with the scents of soap, sweat, and leather that he had come to associate with her over the past few days. It was a tantalizing mix. Now that he was seeing her as a desirable woman, a potential mate, even, his baser instincts wanted to take over and it was a challenge to maintain control.

"Vilkas, don't tease me, I mean it. Why-"

"Must you talk about _everything_, woman? I have been a fool, but you won't hear me say that again." He stared back at her, waiting for her to make the next move.

Brynja's mouth fell open, but she was at a loss for words. After weeks of wondering what it might be like to be exactly where she was right now, in Vilkas's arms, she could scarcely believe that it was happening. _It's now or never_.

"Kiss me again," she said at last.

Neither was a fumbling, inexperienced lover, and their lips came together in a crush of passionate energy. She plunged her fingers into his hair and surrendered her mouth to him; he slid his arms around her waist and flattened his hands across the swell of her bottom, squeezing gently. Brynja's pulse raced, she was panting, and her smalls were damp with her arousal. The little mewling sounds she made as Vilkas began to walk them toward the mattresses he set up for them were driving him mad. He kicked the two beds together and put her down, kneeling beside her, his hand cupping her face as she kissed him.

"Brynja...Bryn."

"Mmm?"

"Look at me, Brynja." She opened her eyes and gazed up at him. "Do you drink the tea?" Most of the female Companions drank a tea that prevented conception, and Brynja blushed and nodded.

"Good," he whispered hoarsely. "Now come here." He pulled her close again, and they kissed and tugged at each other's armor and clothing until they knelt before each other, naked.

Brynja blushed as her gaze settled on Vilkas's groin, but any question he might have had about her virginity died on his lips as hers wrapped around his cock. Her mouth and tongue played along his length while her hands cupped and fondled his balls, and within a few minutes he was dangerously close to losing all control. Struggling against a desire to let it happen, he pulled away from Brynja and grabbed her by the hips, turning her sideways so he could reach between her legs. He slid his fingers into her warm, wet folds and she gasped, her head and shoulders falling to the mattress as her hips thrust upwards, her lovely behind on display for him. She was ready and he slid into her slowly, allowing her to adjust to his girth before he began to move his hips back and forth.

"Vilkas...ah...feels so...good. Uhn." She reached between her legs to hold his balls and he gasped, gripping her hips and thrusting into her harder, more urgently.

They changed positions several times, exploring one another, until she was sitting astride him, and he paused to simply look at her. "Gods, you're a lovely sight."

Smiling, she clenched her muscles around him and rolled her hips back and forth. "I don't imagine you thought you'd be here, a few days ago."

He laughed, reaching up to hold her breasts. "No, I did not, Brynja. If I had known sooner what a delight you are, we may never have left Dawnstar."

They resumed a more frantic pace and it wasn't long before they were shouting out in ecstasy. Brynja fell to the mattress, completely spent and feeling boneless. Vilkas was as exhausted and barely had the energy to find their blankets. They made their bed for the night and slipped under the furs, Vilkas pulling Brynja onto her side so he could spoon around her back.

She was drifting off to sleep, and mumbled, "I do have affections for you, Vilkas."

He kissed her shoulder and smoothed a hand over her hair. So many things had changed so dramatically, and in just a short time, yet instead of feeling overwhelmed by it, Vilkas felt an inner peace he hadn't known until now.

"I have affections for you, Brynja."

* * *

A/N: This started out as a chapter for a holiday gift exchange with Zute, Zevgirl, and Heiwako. This is my gift to Zute, who asked for a chapter wherein Vilkas and the Dragonborn are snowed in for the night, and snark and sexiness ensues. I got a little carried away with the lead up and figure I may very well add another chapter or two before I call this one complete. I hope you enjoyed it. Cheers!


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